I squint at the crows and recall her words, glancing at Meadow, not entirely sure what she means about birds and ears and certain we never once mentioned her around these damned birds. I think she’s maybe a little insane or making out that she knows more than she does.
“So, if you know why we’re here, then I guess we shouldn’t beat around the bush and ask if you will help.” It feels rude to invade her territory and blurt it out, but it’s put me completely off-kilter having her seem to know who we are and looks so smug about it. She’s not exactly welcoming, and so far, she seems to like indirect answers and wordplay. It doesn’t signal a friendly soul.
“It’s getting late.” She points out, ignoring my question completely. Acting like I haven’t spoken and I sigh at the sky. I still can’t make out anything about her features other than she seems to have a youthfulness. It’s hard to put a finger on it, more than seeing her hand, but I get the vibes that she is not much older than Sierra. Mid-thirties at most. I’ve heard about witches using anti-aging seduction, masking appearances to lure, and means to pull innocents to trust them… or was that sirens? I forget. The books under the house have so many supernatural species; I don’t recall which sometimes or what ones we should never be drawn in by. Either way, her presence is giving me the heeby-jeebies.
“Not to be rude, but we are aware and don’t like being out after dark, so if you could, you know, get to the point. You know who we are and what we want; hence…. we need an answer.” Carmen comes right out with it in that haughty bitchy tone of hers. No warmth, only dry boredom and superiority, and for once, it doesn’t annoy me. I mean, it's rude as hell, and I admire her lack of fear around this witch, but she does have a point. I don’t want to stand out here like this for the rest of the night. This witch has no concept of how dangerous it could be for us or that we still need sleep and food before dawn.
“The jilted lover…. So full of anger and attitude. It’s like you’re a full sponge who has soaked up all the toxins in the world. A little squeeze and it all comes squirting out in the most unattractive way.” She chuckles, that same girly yet not young sound that washes over us, and the crow seems to cackle in response along with her. An evil vibrating noise grates on my nerves. I swear it laughs at us. It’s that same little window-tapping asshole from earlier, and I mentally add her devious mini sidekick to my kill list should this turn bloody.
On the other hand, Carmen falls silent and glares at her with great mistrust. Eyes gleaming orange in the dark, full-on hostility leaching out from every pore, given she does seem to know a hell of a lot. I’m certain we never said anything of the sort near her birds about Carmen being Colton’s ex or my being the reason he left her.
“How do you know so much about us and don’t say your birds hear us? Because that’s bullshit, as we haven’t said a thing about her love life since we got here!” Meadow is the one with the hostile tone now. Biting tone, full-on mama bear mode initiated as she steps in front of me and seems to grow taller. I can feel her unease and suspicion all around me, tainting the air and feeding my worry. She doesn’t like this witch and certainly doesn’t think we’re safe with her.
“Did I say it was these specific birds? You’ve come far, my wee pets; you look like you need somewhere to sit and maybe a hot drink to calm that unwise rise of attitude. Know who you’re talking to, and learn when to be silent!” The tone loses that warm air, and that superior edge and biting tone change the atmosphere completely. It’s an icy statement that makes Carmen sound like an amateur in terms of scolding, and there’s a hint of power and superiority that can only come from someone knowing their skillset trumps yours. She slides back her hood as she steps out of her space, releasing her raven to fly back to his perch. The rising moon is glowing somehow brighter at her command, and we’re faced with a woman who looks no older than her late twenties at most.
She’s pretty in a wholesome way, visually, yet shrouded in maturity, underlying darkness, and wisdom, giving her an older presence. Not outstanding, unearthly, stunning beauty, but she has definite attractiveness and a natural unmade-up face with zero lines or wrinkles. She’s seductive yet somehow looks pure, untainted by the world, and has a fire in her eyes that suggests she’s a warrior at heart. She has a likeability, a sense of calm and control that makes you feel like you need this woman to tell you what to do next. A born queen under her dark robes and almost Celtic style. Flowing layers of long skirts, and boho attire, with a mix of eras in one outfit. She looks exactly how I thought a witch should look if she were eternally young and beautiful.
Not bad for a three-thousand-year-old who has probably seen and interacted in more wars than we can imagine. It’s not her looks that pull you completely in, but her aura. There’s an atmosphere around her of great power, crackling energy, pure, clear oxygen fizzing up the tempo, and the steady unruffled gaze as she locks eyes on me, which completely throws me off.
Dark, almond-shaped catlike eyes that have a hint of exotic beauty about them. Deep and endless and way darker than Colton’s brown eyes. She’s terrifying, like the kind of woman who would kiss you on the lips before driving a stake right through your heart and smiling sweetly as she did so. She’s utterly intimidating.
“Look, we’re sorry. It’s been a long journey and a lot of stress. We don’t mean to be rude; we just weren’t sure if we could trust you. Or if you are her…Leyanne Cruden! You still haven’t confirmed!” I try for the smoothing over and calming things approach. My mediation skills as Luna, but she throws her head back and laughs heartily. Like she just heard the funniest joke of the year and isn’t shy about expressing her amusement.
“You come looking for me, and yet I’m the one that’s not to be trusted. Oh, pet…. You really are a bit backward. Who else would I be?” It’s a chuckle as she regains composure, wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, and shakes her robes around her to rearrange them back to neatness. I’m starting to think this one is a bit insane.
“Truth be told, you can’t trust me… you can’t trust anyone. Everyone has a line they’ll cross for the right persuasions, even my kind. No one is ever truly trustworthy! Even your sisters here.” She smirks, rolling her R’s in her sing-song accent, hearty scots, and walks a step forward to close the gap between us. It takes all my willpower not to step away. She’s suffocating with just a foot forward, that energy eating me alive, and I realize it’s my ability to feel others that’s causing it. I can sense, taste, and feel her brimming power and incomparable amounts of magic in her possession. Like she always carries a constant death fence of electricity around her. It makes Sierra seem human in comparison.
I want to defend my Meadow venomously and maybe even Carmen too, but sense tells me to be quiet and ignore her insults concerning my being able to trust my pack sisters. This witch seems to like wordplay and maybe mind games. I have never met anyone like her before.
“I would die for her. So, you can eat that and choke on it, Chica.” Meadow loses her cool, spitting venom, obviously offended enough not to stay quiet as her pride is bruised, and I grasp her hand to quiet her and groan at her words. Flinching inwardly that this witch just told us to heed her, and here Meds is, poking the bear.
“Want to prove it? I mean, I’m willing, and we do have a nice quiet night for it.” Leyanne chuckles again with a hearty, brash, mocking laugh. Throwing back her cloak over her shoulders to reveal a sculpted upper bodice of her dress. It’s romantic and flouncy around the neckline, with jewelry that gives her an earth momma vibe that’s not entirely weird. I kind of dig it, but it’s something that would stand out in the human world unless it was some sort of cottage gore convention, even without the huge black cloak with an extra pointed long tail on her hood. I guess the girl likes to look the part of what she is.
“Are we wasting our time? Should we just leave?” I blurt out in frustration at how this is going and step in front of Meadow again, reinforcing my position as leader, hoping to God we can turn and go and find another way if this isn’t it. My mate is back there, he needs me to figure this out, and I don’t want to waste hours of my life on someone pointless who wants to spur my girls into fighting.
“So quick to give in, wee one. Not much Luna quality in that. Do I scare you? Are you intimidated?” She whispers it in a mock tone, smug and winking as a smile haunts her full lips. No sense of her being rattled by us at all, and I wonder just how powerful she is to stand up to three glaring femmes and not give an actual crap about consequences. She turns her back on us, throwing us a gleeful look over her shoulder, and gestures with a tilt of her head. “Follow me if you’re brave enough, and I guess you’ll see if I was worth the journey. Don’t dawdle…. it’s dark, you know?” She smirks with her last sarcastic words and seems to sway off with a steady walk. Looking like she owns this land and is walking a red carpet rather than a dirty, sandy scrub with nothing around.
She doesn’t wait for any kind of response, so sure of herself and our need of her, and walks off into the darkening wood to seemingly disappear. We hesitate. All three standing firm and throwing glances at one another, expressions ashen, faces pale before Meadow shoves me forward to follow.